Lessons of the Rhetorical Kind
by Spring Zephyr
Summary: "Come to think of it, she was always pestering me to teach her piano." And always when Clone Mozart didn't feel like being pestered too.


**Um... I have a backlog of fanfiction that I never edited, and I just finished scaring myself at 4:30 AM with survival horror games. Specifically "Galerians". And I am a wimp. So now there's this.**

"I've heard before that music is the universal language, though I've never fully understood what that meant."

"...It is not in your place to understand, Marie Curie."

It was, however, an accomplishment that Clone Mozart managed not to fumble. Not badly. His instructors, though not unkind, noticed everything and the pressure never let up. That half a second of hesitation before hitting C Minor would have went unnoticed by Marie Curie's untrained ears.

But what an unexpected statement, coming from Clone Marie Curie – he wouldn't have been able to guess it was coming, nor did he particularly want to hear that. Not from her. He had thought she'd been following him this past week because she had a crush or something. He would have preferred it.

For a while, Mozart had even begun to think that having Marie Curie around might be pleasant. There was a twisted, demented part of his mind which he acknowledged, a part only interested in power and control and watching the face of another corrupt. An unfair, ugly part seeking satisfaction for his own life.

And then there was Marie Curie. And she just wouldn't shut up about the music.

"I think it's beautiful, even if I don't understand it," she gushed, perhaps a little more shy, more timid and humble and pleading, than usual. Cheeks flushed slightly, as she worked up all her nerve to ask him a favor, "But I would love to!"

In the most roundabout way possible, of course.

Clone Mozart has noticed recently that his attitude has been getting worse. Contrary to popular belief, he is not so self-absorbed that he can't even notice a thing like that – everything frustrates him now, every little thing, and he hates it. He hates the fact that he's angry, hates the fact that his life is already planned out for him, hates knowing that nothing he does will ever change that, and now he hates Marie Curie, for thinking she can do something that he already knows is impossible.

There are too many thoughts in his head. Now that he's thought about it, he wonders if the original Mozart ever hated being a prodigy too. At the same time, he loathes Marie Curie's smile, full of sincerity and longing and naivety.

Clone Mozart stops playing, no longer able to concentrate. He would have liked to ask her to go away. Ordered her, if that's what it took. But, for some reason, his teeth are clenched and his fingernails are digging into his palms and he can't loosen them up enough to say what he wants to say before he explodes.

Marie Curie's presence is unwanted here. Whether the words are polite or not, he'd end up telling her eventually.

"You are a clone," Mozart replied, punctuating each word with a hiss. His teeth are clenched so hard that the words barely sought to come out at all. His jaw aches. He's tired of having to be perfect for other people, of being the prodigy and the genius. "The original Marie Curie was content with being a scientist. Just because you think it sounds pretty doesn't mean you know the first thing about music!"

If Clone Mozart told his own instructor that he wanted to do something other than play music, he would have been scolded, told not to waste his time. Like or not, the piano was all he had. And maybe he didn't want to do anything else after all, or maybe he just didn't know yet. Despite his bitter attitude, who was to say he disliked music?

But no one had ever asked Clone Mozart, the same as no one had ever asked Clone Marie Curie, so it didn't matter. They were clones born into this world to surpass their originals. Reborn, as his instructors had told him, like they'd been chosen to have a second life. Prodigies. An ordinary person would never receive this chance, never have their DNA cloned and manipulated for generations to come. They weren't actually different than their originals, and they weren't supposed to have a choice. It didn't make the pressure placed upon him any easier to bear though.

"If I hadn't been born as Marie..."

Since when had she begun to think like that?

Clone Mozart curtly gathered his music sheets, stood up, and began to walk. He had enough problems of his own without Clone Marie Curie taunting him with hers too! He didn't want the pressure of being perfect Mozart any more than she wanted to study science, but...

One last attempt. Control over his mood was slipping.

"The piano," Clone Mozart began truthfully, "loses its charm once your personal instructor begins enslaving you to it. There are days when I wish I could simply avoid it... I think."

He'd lost his love for music, yet he continued to play anyway. The same music Marie Curie thought was beautiful sounded lifeless to him, just another bullet point on the growing list of things he hated and couldn't avoid, but he dedicated himself to it anyway. Mozart thought he'd despised the piano, and at the same time he simply couldn't give it up. Why couldn't Clone Marie Curie just give up and dedicate herself to science in the same way?

"It's like that for anything that a person loves," Marie Curie insisted.

Clone Mozart twitched in annoyance. Suppose she was serious about getting into music – did she truly see herself getting as tired of it as he was? Did she really think that it was normal, that he did it purely out of _love_? She didn't understand a thing!

At that time, Clone Mozart had learned to hate her.

The only person he hated more was Shiro Kamiya. And perhaps himself.

**"Come to think of it, she was always pestering me to teach her piano."**

** This dialogue suggests that Marie Curie has gone to him multiple times. Then this might be an early instance, perhaps?**

** I thought this was longer when I was writing it! I did cut a few paragraphs during editing though... But I don't think I managed to fully convey the meaning intended in this story. By the way, I'm curious: Did anyone else guess Clone Mozart would attempt suicide before it happened?**


End file.
